Anonymous
12/29/25(Mon)23:53:20 No.216978953

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Anonymous 12/29/25(Mon)23:53:20 No.216978953

https://youtu.be/-5JF9Gq5tL4

Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York
And all the clouds that lower'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures
Grim-visag'd war hath smoothed his wrinkled front
And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute
But I, that am not shap'd for sportive tricks
Nor made to court an amourous looking-glass
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton, ambling nymph
I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature
Deform'd, unfinished, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them
Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb:
And, for I should not deal in her soft laws,
She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe,
To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub;
To make an envious mountain on my back,
To shape my legs of an unequal size;
To disproportion me in every part,
Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp
That carries no impression like the dam.
While, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time.
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun
And descant on mine own deformity
Then, since this earth affords no joy to me,
But to command, to cheque, to o'erbear
Such as are of better person than myself,
I'll make my heaven to dream upon the crown,
And, whiles I live, to account this world but hell,
Until this mis-shaped trunk that bears this head
Be round impaled with a glorious crown.
But yet I know not how to get the crown,